


May The Best Queen Hold The Crown

by FyrMaiden



Series: With Hairspray and Denim [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren Zizes is not *that* girl. She is definitely *not* mooning over Blaine Anderson. What is this, 1994?</p>
            </blockquote>





	May The Best Queen Hold The Crown

Tina floats the idea past her fellow Too Young To Be Bitter Club members first. She is bright eyed and perky, and Lauren knows before Tina says anything that this is going to be another terrible waste of time, on account of all of her other ideas being equally awful. “What about,” Tina chirps, her smile wide and convincing, “A Sadie Hawkins dance? The girls get to ask the boys! No more waiting around to be noticed. We get to do the choosing and the inviting-”

“And the sitting in the back of the room when we still don’t have a date,” Lauren says morosely, intent of derailing the idea of another pointless school dance where the cute skinny girls in their cute skinny party dresses will still be the ones dancing the most. She takes a bite out of a chocolate and banana muffin, which, as it turns out, tastes absolutely glorious. “Besides, it’s not like most of us having a wardrobe full of party frocks just waiting for an excuse to be worn. No one wants to buy two prom dresses in a year.”

“No one will be sitting at the back of the room,” Tina retorts, glaring now. “That’s the point. We make the rules. A dance for everyone!”

Lauren scoffs and pushes herself to her feet. “That’s really easy to say when you look like you,” she says. She’s not really concerned for herself. She’s pretty confident she can get a dance, if not a date, although she is still not supporting this ridiculous idea. She does know, though, that Tina’s confidence that all girls can get dates if they ask for them isn’t necessarily true or realistic. Being able to ask doesn’t automatically equip everyone to do so, and most of this club is here because the world doesn’t treat them as they deserve to be treated, and they’re still going to be sitting on the risers dateless and sad.

As it turns out, Tina hadn’t really been looking for input. She wanted an excuse to ask Blaine Anderson to a school dance, and Sadie Hawkins was perfect. It’s not like Lauren doesn’t get it. After all, Blaine is exactly the kind of cupcake that she wishes she could swallow whole. She’d bet money that his crème pattisiere is simply divine. She’d cover him in chocolate and spend days licking it off, and she may or may not have wondered, in her more delicate moments, at what temperature he could be considered perfectly tempered. Lauren would eat Blaine Anderson up and still come back for more. He’s sweet and flawless and...

And then she catches herself and rolls her eyes. She is not mooning over Blaine Anderson, Senior Class President and poster child for Lima Pride. Or, she concedes, would be if the mere idea of Lima _having_ Pride wasn’t less realistic than The Jetsons. Wilma and Betty would be out before Lima found it in itself to not quietly closet its entire community, or send them fleeing to private schools and seedy bars and sex on the downlow. And besides, crushing on gay boys is totally 2011 and Lauren is not _that_ girl. ( _That_ girl is Tina, who has been making obnoxious and obvious googly eyes at Blaine all year, and has probably slipped perfume scented notes into his locker like this is 1994 and gay wasn’t even on the radar yet, he’s just so _sensitive_ , you know? It’s not any part of Lauren’s problem that Tina hasn’t got the message that Blaine, pretty and robust and damn cute as he is, is also 100% gay. Or at the very least, he’s on a team that hasn’t got and doesn’t want its face between her thighs.)

For all of that, though, Tina still manages to convince Blaine to be her date. Tina is already there when Lauren arrives and she has to concede that Tina’s theme is beautiful. When she dances with Blaine, Lauren also has to concede that in another life, they’d have made a sweet couple. That doesn’t stop the unbidden and unbecoming surge of jealousy that fizzes in her gut, however, because there’s an unladylike part of her that would like to stamp on Tina’s toes and sit her ass on the risers so that she could go dance with Blaine. 

Regardless of her professional detachment, though, she does find herself moving slightly further up the risers to get a better view of the boys when they dance, although she wouldn’t really call that performance _dancing_. Their performance is more like sex, in all the dirtiest flirtiest ways, and her answer is a very firm ‘yes’. She’d be happy to climb that, since they offered. She’s equally not proud of the twinge of smug satisfaction that coils through her when Blaine goes running off after Sam halfway through the evening. She moves over to make room for Tina to sit beside her, pushes her glasses up her nose, and doesn’t say anything. (Because gloating would be immature and also, unbecoming.)

Lauren is standing at the punch table, third cup in hand, when she makes a decision. She is not, she tells herself, a delicate wallflower. She is Lauren Zizes, athlete and goddess. She knows what boys like, and if she wants to dance, then damnit, she is going to dance. She will dance with other people’s dates, and she will have a fantastic time, and so help anyone who tries to make this disaster of a night go any other way. After all, she once beat Santana Lopez in a fight, and she tamed Noah Puckerman. She is invincible. 

It is riding the wave of this pep rally come self-confidence boost that she corners Blaine, short and dapper and irresistibly cute with his stupid buttonhole (what even is he?) on his way back to Tina and tells him that they’re dancing. “Okay,” he smiles, and does that thing with his head, bobbing it amenably and looking at her like she’s the most important person in the world right now. He’s good, she thinks, and then finds herself wondering exactly what his flaws are that have landed him single at McKinley his senior year. Like, who walks away from someone who can look at you like that?! 

Blaine’s hands are warm, and he smells like amber, and he lets her lead which she particularly appreciates. And, when he bobs up onto his toes at the end of the song and presses a soft kiss to her cheek, she finds herself thankful for the layer of foundation covering the flush that spreads through her skin. She really isn’t, she tells herself, any different at all to Tina, because he’s impossible to not moon over ever so slightly. She can’t help but return the million-watt smile he beams at her, though.

_One song might not be seven minutes,_ she tweets from her car, before heading home, _but dancing with Blaine Anderson is definitely heavenly._


End file.
